


An Education

by srmarybadass



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: !63 Sherlock, BDSM, Bondage, F/F, Genderswap, fem-sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmarybadass/pseuds/srmarybadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: lady!Sherlock and Irene with Sherlock tied up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Education

“You know, my dear,” Irene remarked conversationally, checking to make sure the knots were secure, “by the time most people call me, they are a bit beyond the veil of ‘experimentation.’”

“I think we can both agree that I am not _most people_ ,” Sherlock huffed. “Are you sure I won’t lose circulation in my arms? After all-”

“Sherlock, you’ll loose circulation almost _everywhere_. All the blood will be rushing to the bruises and to… _other_ places.”

“And my _knees_!” Sherlock continued her protesting. “I’m healthy, of course, but in your clientele, placing most of their weight on their knees on a wooden floor could potentially-”

Irene Adler then became one of the few people in the world to shut up Sherlock Holmes quite effectively by slapping her across the face. Not with all her strength, of course, but with a bit more than usual. After all, as she herself had pointed out, Sherlock Holmes was not her usual clientele.

In the few seconds that Sherlock blinked and analyzed her pain, Irene rested back in her wingback chair, legs crossed elegantly, enjoying the sight of a red handprint blossoming across the milky whiteness of Sherlock’s skin.

_A study in pink indeed_ , Irene thought happily. 

Of course, Sherlock wasn’t one to be quiet for long.

“Is that it then? You just randomly slap paying customers? Where on earth is the art in that? If you-”

“Sherry, dear, I didn’t gag you because I understand that you like to ask questions and I honestly wanted to be a resource for you, but if you continue to chatter inanely and insult my work, I will be forced to shut you right up.”

Sherlock frowned. It was difficult for her to concede in anything.

“And besides, I did not just ‘randomly slap’ you. Look at the window – feel the breeze? A little cold, isn’t it? Can you feel how it contrasts with the heat coming through the vents? Your body doesn’t know how to feel. It’s naked – which, by the way, my dear, is _lovely_ – and crouching in anticipation. The floor is starting to hurt your knees a bit and your fight-or-flight instincts are gearing up, but of course your hands are bound, which would put a bit of a damper on that. In addition,” she purred, “you have been viewing _my_ body for the past several minutes, which, according to your pupils, quickening breath, and the way you are subtly inclining your head towards me, means that your sexual desire has been skyrocketing. For you, I’d say that’s quite impressive. The slap, my love, was merely to break the surface tension. I daresay you feel quite a bit more relaxed now, don’t you?”

Sherlock did, and Irene knew, but it didn’t mean she was going to _admit_ to anything. Anyone could have made all those deductions. _John_ could have made those deductions.

Well, he would probably have been distracted by the whole “naked lesbian dominatrix” thing. He was, at heart, a simple man.

_Crack!_

Sherlock yelped as Irene slapped her again. 

“You were getting distracted. Naughty!” Irene tutted, striding over on her spike heels to the table with her tools of trade. She selected a riding crop.

“For posterity, and your posterior,” she grinned. Stalking back to where her prey knelt, like the panther she was, she stroked the crop over Sherlock’s cheekbones ever-so-gently, enjoying the shiver that passed through Sherlock. “Mmm, yes. Not so sure what I’ll do next, is that right? Feeling a little nervous?”

“Of course I know what you’ll do next,” Sherlock replied stiffly. “You’ll swat my, as you said, ‘posterior’ affectionately, probably with your hand as opposed to the crop – that would be more personal, as your lovely pun indicated-”

Irene grabbed a handful of Sherlock’s inky black hair and yanked her head back, kneeling down briefly to lick a stripe up Sherlock’s neck. _Mmm, there goes that pulse point._

Sherlock gasped and shivered again underneath her tongue, involuntary and uncontrollably.

“I had thought about giving your pert little arse a pat, of course, but I do like to be unpredictable. Keeps people on their toes…or their knees, as the case may be.” She gave Sherlock’s backside a light swat, just for funsies.

Standing, she strode around Sherlock. The detective tried to track her movements, but Irene used her crop to point Sherlock’s head roughly forward. “Ah-ah! Eyes front, young lady!”

She took a moment to ponder the creamy expanse of Sherlock’s back before deciding that cream was a bit boring, it needed a little color to spice it up, and hit her once, twice, _thrice_ with the crop, just hard enough that bruises would be present for approximately two days, although it would only be uncomfortable for her to be on her back for twenty-four hours.

Of course, she quite intended to get the high and mighty Sherlock Holmes on her back well within that time period.

Sherlock’s breath was quickening now, breasts heaving and giving away her arousal. Of course, that wouldn’t be the _only_ thing…

Irene nudged Sherlock’s knees apart a little further with her toes, striking her once more with the crop when she did not comply right away, and gently slid her fingers between Sherlock’s legs.

Sherlock’s hitch-moan was a lovely note to add to the symphony Irene would play upon her body. 

“Oh, very nice,” Irene complimented, in the same tone of voice she might use to flatter Sherlock’s new outfit. She strode around to face Sherlock, and, locking eyes with the so-called sociopath, raised her finger to her lips and licked them in the most sensuous way she could come up with. “Mmm. Tasty.”

Sherlock opened her mouth, as if too say something, but then shut it with an audible ‘click.’

“Do you have something to say, cupcake?” Irene purred gently.

“No,” Sherlock muttered.

Irene raised an eyebrow and the crop. “I said, do- _crack_! – you- _crack_! – have- _crack!_ – something- _crack!_ – to- _crack!_ – say?” _Crack!_ ”

“ _No, Miss Adler!_ ” came the cry, yanked from Sherlock’s lips. It surprised Sherlock more than Irene, but not by much.

“Oh, very good,” Irene said, letting her words slide over Sherlock like silk. She ran a hand over Sherlock’s back, feeling the heat that had risen to the surface, enjoying the chaotic, symphonic beauty of the scarlet and ice. “You do learn quickly, don’t you?”

The answer – yes, Sherlock _did_ learn quickly – was in the silence that followed Irene’s question.

Irene trailed the crop slowly up the inside of Sherlock’s thigh, noticing the almost-imperceptible forward cant of her hips. Oh, she wanted it, and she wanted it bad.

“Very well,” Irene grinned. “Let’s see just how much we can teach you tonight…”


End file.
